


Touch of Grace

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grace - Freeform, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sneaky touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re sitting in a booth in a diner, just him and Sam, when he feels it.</p>
<p>It’s like the brush of a feather across his ribs; it’s gentle and soft and really fucking ticklish. He squirms away from it, trying to figure out what the hell he got stuck in his shirt, but nothing gives him any relief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch of Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xaandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaandria/gifts).



> Set in a fictional time when Dean and Sam and Cas were all super friendly and hunting together somethings and Cas was an angel and Dean and Cas were totally doing it.
> 
> For Jamie's birthday because she's FANTASTIC.
> 
> Massive thanks as always to my tumblrwife Lily/drownedinblissfulconfusion/tundraeternal (ps go read her cockles series The Convention if you're into that because JFC IT IS AWESOME)

They’re sitting in a booth in a diner, just him and Sam, when he feels it.

It’s like the brush of a feather across his ribs; it’s gentle and soft and really fucking ticklish. He squirms away from it, trying to figure out what the hell he got stuck in his shirt, but nothing gives him any relief.

“What the hell, Dean? You okay there?” asks Sam, eyebrows raised.

He’s about to answer with a sarcastic remark when he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye through the diner window.

It’s Cas, watching them through the glass with the expression Dean used to think was innocent and now realizes is Cas fucking with him.

He stills, forcefully, ignoring the sensation, and gives Cas a serious stink-eye through the window, and that’s when the waitress arrives. By the time he’s given his order, the tickling has stopped and Cas is gone.

\-----

The second time he feels something touching him is when he’s alone, in the Impala, driving to a bar for some relaxation while Sam does whatever the hell he does on his laptop.

The feeling starts against his neck, just below his ear, and brushes across his jaw and lips. It runs down his chest and brushes a nipple, making him jerk in his seat and growl, “Cas! Cut it out, man! I’m driving!”

There’s a whisper of wings, and Cas is in the passenger seat.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean pulls the car into the shoulder and turns to glare. “You could have killed me like that?”

Cas looks serene. “I had control of the vehicle.” His eyes flick to Dean. “I wanted to touch you, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, trying to stay annoyed but it’s hard to be angry when Cas is giving him that sincere look from beneath his lashes. “Don’t tickle me, dude. Why would you even do that.” He thinks for a moment. “Come to think of it, how the hell were you touching me, anyway?”

Cas smiles his small, secret smile. “My grace can be used in many ways, Dean.” He cocks his head. “I’m needed in Heaven.” He disappears with a rustle.

“Wait, Cas!” Dean slams a hand on the dash in frustration and stares up at the sky, shaking his head. After a minute, he starts the Impala and pulls back onto the road. After that, he deserves an extra damn drink. Now.

\-----

The third time it happens, Dean’s sitting at the table in the motel room with Sam sorting through vintage magazines an old acquaintance of John’s gave them. It’s been a few days since Cas last stopped in and Dean’s refusing to worry. He’s trying to decide whether to group Witch-hunters Weekly with Herbs! Herbs! Herbs! or with To Hunt a Werewolf Quarterly when Cas is suddenly sitting in the chair across from him.

He jumps a little, but he’s gotten more and more used to Cas’s appearances and disappearances over the last few years. “Hey, Cas. Everything ok in Heaven?”

“Yes, Dean. Hello, Sam.”

Sam gives a wave, engrossed in the May 1941 issue of Tales for the Hunter.

“Wanna help us out with this crap?” asks Dean, gesturing at the crates. “We’re trying to figure out if any of it’s useful.”

Cas reaches for a magazine and opens it, spreading it on the table. As they turn back to their work, Dean smiles to himself. He’s got his brother, and his angel, and everyone’s doing pretty good. He goes to turn a page, and-

“Gah!” he jerks upright as something brushes across his nipple.

Sam looks up and turns to him. “Dean?”

“Nothing, Sam. I, uh- I think I just twisted something the wrong way. I’m fine.” He glances at Cas, who seems totally captivated by an article on creatures who eat human spleens. The feeling is still there, but it’s intensified, now pressing against both nipples with a third thing (grace tentacle?) slides down his chest.

Dean shifts in his seat but manages to stay silent as he glares at Cas, who still looks completely innocent and is turning the page in his magazine. The grace at his nipples spreads until it’s brushing all along his chest and sides, and the third one slips beneath his waistband to brush his hips. Another brushes his crack, and another strokes up his inner thigh.

Dean can feel his face reddening as he hardens in his jeans, and he reaches a hand down to surreptitiously adjust himself.

As he presses the heel of his hand to his groin, a bit of grace slips under his balls to gently brush against his entrance.

Sam stands, grabbing the key to the Impala. “I’m gonna go grab a couple books. I want to check some references. Need anything from the car?”

Dean shook his head, trying not to moan as the grace splits and brushes across his balls and crack at the same time.

Sam pauses. “Dean, you sure you’re okay? You’re looking pretty red.”

“Just-” Dean’s voice is a little strangled, and he clears his throat. “Just, uh, just got a headache, that’s all. I’m- I’m good.”

Sam’s still looking at him oddly, but he shakes his head and closes the door.

As soon as he’s gone, Dean stands and stalks around the table to Cas, lifting the angel by his trenchcoat and pressing him to the wall. “What the hell, Cas?! Sam’s right here.”

Cas slides a hand down to cup Dean’s cock through his jeans. “And he will be right back, Dean.” He squeezes, pulling a gasp from Dean, and then pushes him back towards the table. “And if you sit there quietly for the next twenty minutes, I promise you will not be disappointed.”

Dean’s already-rock-hard cock gives a twitch as he slides back into his seat, dragging it firmly under the table so his tented jeans are out of sight, just in time for Sam to open the door.

Sam gives him another weird look, but chooses not to comment as he opens the leatherbound tome and goes back to work.

The grace comes and goes, drifting across his hips, torso, balls and ass, and by the time Cas’s deadline of twenty minutes is getting close it’s all Dean can do to keep from moaning out loud or throwing Cas to the bed, Sam’s presence notwithstanding.

He's got three minutes left when he feels the first brush against his cock.

Luckily, Sam is pacing back and forth across the room with his phone as he talks to Jody about something that's been killing blondes in South Dakota. He's not watching as Dean writhes in his chair, trying to increase the pressure. Nor is he watching as a finger of grace worms inputs way inside Dean and brushes his prostate.

He does, however, turn at Dean’s strangled groan that quickly turns into a cough. “Dean, seriously, what is going on with you?” Sam asks, coming right up next to Dean. “You really don’t look good, man.”

Dean coughs again, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, I, uh, I don’t feel too good. Might take a nap.”

Sam nods. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll go grab food and come back, okay?”

Dean nods, trying to ignore the pressure on his prostate that’s been joined by a slowly stroking finger of grace wrapped around his shaft.

Sam pauses. “Take it easy while I’m gone, Dean. Drink some water or something. You look awful, seriously.” He heads out, glancing back at Dean as he shuts the door.

Now they’re alone, and Cas is gonna pay for his teasing.

As soon as he hears the roar of the Impala fade, he rises from his chair and stalks towards Cas, who’s sitting on the bed across the room. Cas gives a tiny smirk as Dean comes around the table and suddenly appears inches in front of Dean.

Dean stutters to a stop, flailing a little to stay upright, and Cas spins them and pushes Dean “You did well, Dean,” he says, pulling off his tie and coat and tossing them to the floor. “You deserve a reward.” He reaches out a hand and Dean is suddenly totally naked on the bed, tiny fingers of grace stroking every inch of his body, carding though his hair, rubbing the tense muscles of his back, brushing along the head of his cock and teasing along the rim of his hole.

Dean writhes on the bed, moaning, as Cas slowly removes his own clothes. “What would you like me to do, Dean?” He pulls off his shirt, then his belt. “Would you like me to fuck you?”

Dean nods frantically.

“Or would you like me to penetrate you with my grace while sucking your cock?”

Dean lets out another groan, reaching for Cas and desperately trying not to come right then and there from Cas’s words and the sensations on his body.

Cas kneels down in front of him on the floor and runs warm hands up Dean’s bare thighs. The feeling of skin on his own leaves Dean even more breathless as Cas leans forward, his breath ghosting over Dean’s cock.

“Do you want me to take you in my mouth, Dean?" He reaches forward, fingers wrapping around Dean's cock. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please, Cas!" Deans voice is high, pleading as he thrusts his hips into Cas's hand.

Cas smiles serenely and Dean feels a brush against his prostate, then the sensation spreads impossibly wide, across the surface of the gland and Dean moans, so close-

A circle of fingers closes tightly around the base of his cock and Dean lets out a whine as pleasure shoots through him and then freezes in Cas's grip. Cas meets his eyes and holds them as he lowers his head and laps gently at the swollen head of Dean's cock.

Dean shudders, lost in sensation as he stares transfixed at the angel lowering his mouth onto Dean's cock. Cas's eyes crinkle as his lips wrap around Dean's shaft and he slides his mouth down quickly until his lips hit his fingers. He sets up a quick rhythm, matching his movements with the strokes of the grace he's directing inside Dean's body.

Dean is almost overwhelmed with pleasure as he's assaulted from inside and out by Cas's ministrations. He feels it building in him, beyond anything he's felt before, and he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in their sockets.

Suddenly Cas's mouth falters, suction increasing on his whole length, and that's when Dean realizes that Cas's other hand is wrapped around the angel's own cock and that's when Dean can no longer hold back his own orgasm and comes with a shout in Cas's throat. Cas's shoulder jerks once, twice, and then he's moaning around Dean's still-shooting cock as he comes against Dean's bare calf, then leans forward and rests his head on Dean's stomach, panting heavily.

Dean's head drops back against the bed as his heart rate begins to return to normal and he lets out a shaky breath. His cock slips from Cas's mouth and Dean pulls the angel's unresisting form up beside him on the bed and closes his eyes.

Cas flops down on Dean's chest and nuzzles against him, breath slowing, the flush in his cheeks receding.

Dean is floating in a half-asleep, post-orgasmic haze, warmed by Cas above him who's snoring quietly, when the door opens and both are jolted awake by Sam's shriek and the door slamming shut again.

Dean is horrified for a moment, but he's really too drowsy to be mortified and instead bursts out laughing. Cas smiles at him fondly and kisses him on the forehead, then suddenly both are clothed, clean and laying on a freshly made bed.

"Sam'll deal. He's seen worse, I promise," says Dean as his chuckles finally die down. "C'mere."

Cas lays back down beside him oh his side, arm laid carefully across Dean’s shoulder. When Sam opens the door cautiously an hour later, they're sleeping curled together on the bed.

Sam shakes his head. He's happy for them, sure. But he really hopes that next time they put a damn sock on the door at least.


End file.
